


On His Knees

by Delphi



Series: Hard Men [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Argus makes amends for playing hooky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On His Knees

It was dark and quiet when Argus sneaked back onto school grounds. He was exhausted, and his legs were wobbly as he crept across a courtyard and down a flight of stairs, heading towards the set of dungeon rooms he shared with his master. At the head of the corridor, he took off his boots and tiptoed the rest of the way on stocking feet. Then he carefully and silently lifted the latch and slipped into the shadowy sitting room, congratulating himself on a neat bit of stealth successfully executed.

The lamp flared on.

Bugger.

Master Apollyon was sitting in his armchair with a glass of whisky in hand. He was a big man, broad across the shoulders with arms to match. His iron-grey hair, usually slicked back with so much pomade you could make a candle from it, was sleep-ruffled and wild. He managed to look threatening even sitting, even in nothing but his trousers and slippers, even when he was smiling.

Especially when he was smiling.

“There's the lad!” Master Apollyon said with dangerous cheer. “Up dark and early, already dressed and ready to work, is that it?”

A month ago, Argus might have been stupid enough to go along with it—or rather, he might have believed Master Apollyon to be stupid enough as to be earnest. He knew better now.

“No, sir,” he said, weighing the relative merits of putting down his boots. He might need both hands in a moment, but he also might need to run for his life. “Just getting in.”

This was obviously not news to Master Apollyon. "Aberdeen, was it?"

He gulped. Mr. McKinnon had ratted him out. "Yessir."

“My mind must be going, boy. Refresh my memory. Now when did I give you leave for that?”

Argus fidgeted from foot to foot. He put his boots down. “Didn't, sir.”

“You're a cheat and a thief, then, Argus Filch.”

He looked up sharply, meeting Master Apollyon's eyes for the first time “I wasn't thieving!” he protested. “Just wanted to see the city, didn't I?”

Master Apollyon set his drink down on the side table with a distinct clink. “You think the school puts a roof over your head and food in your belly for you to show up hagridden three hours before work? You think I pay out of my own pocket to keep you so's I can have half-arsed help while I break my back? If you ain't fit to work, you're stealing from the school and you're stealing from me.”

Argus hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets. He had, admittedly, not thought of it that way. “Sorry, sir.”

“Come here,” Master Apollyon said, unbuckling his belt, “and take your licks.”

He slunk over, dragging his feet out of equal parts reluctance and remorse. It wasn't his first thrashing, and he knew the routine by now. He stood beside the chair and took down his trousers. He swallowed hard and then, bare-arsed, bent over Master Apollyon's lap, his cheek pressing against the arm of the chair.

The waiting was the worst part. Master Apollyon took his time in folding the belt up just so. Argus trembled, tired and anxious, and something pulsed deep in his belly. He knew this shouldn't excite him, but it did. He'd never got the belt at home—only a clip around the ear or a good punch—and in his head, this was part and parcel with having his trousers down in Master Apollyon's company in general, which more often than not coincided with coming. The hour was late and he'd only just spent, so his prick hung soft, but something tensed inside him nonetheless.

He let out a yelp when the first lick of the belt fell with an almighty crack of leather. The line of fire that blazed across his backside was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Master Apollyon, mercifully, didn't draw it out, but neither did he go lightly. The next nine wallops landed almost before he could draw breath, leaving him to cry out in a long, stuttering wail.

A wave of dizziness overtook him, but he was draped over the chair with nowhere to fall. He shut his eyes tight, breathing deeply until the pain faded to just this side of bearable. When he thought his legs would hold him, he tried to stand up, but Master Apollyon planted a hand hard at the small of his back, keeping him there. Argus obeyed, the blood starting to rush to his head, resulting in a throbbing that rivalled that of his striped backside.

Master Apollyon's hand moved down his back. Argus sucked in a hard breath through his teeth. Even the gentlest touch was agony after a belting, and Master Apollyon wasn't all that gentle as he touched him, stroking his backside and then rubbing his thumb in between. Argus hissed again, just as sore and tender there.

There was a disapproving cluck. "Did Jimmy fuck you, then?"

Argus gripped the arm of the chair and shook his head urgently. "No, sir."

"Your arse says different."

"He—" Argus broke off, his face going even hotter.

"Go on," Apollyon said, rubbing him harder, making him catch his breath and squirm.

Argus felt his face burn to the tips of his ears. "He put his truncheon up me."

Master Apollyon let out a bark of a laugh. "Did he? The dirty bastard!"

" _Yessir_ ," Argus grumbled heartily.

"Did it hurt?" Master Apollyon's thumb kept turning in circles, softer now.

"Yessir."

"Did you like it?"

He paused and considered lying, but Master Apollyon could sniff out untruths. "...yessir."

"Did you come?"

More eagerly than he ever had, save when Master Apollyon was fucking him. His prick tried to stiffen, but the rest of his body just wasn't up to it. "Yessir."

It had felt different than a cock or fingers. Harder, cooler, smoother. His legs shook as he imagined Master Apollyon using it on him, one of those Sunday afternoons off when errands could wait and Master Apollyon kept him in bed to play with for hours. Usually it was fingers and oil and sometimes even Master Apollyon's mouth, working at him until he was all shaky and spent and open enough to fit his master's cock, but it could be something big and unyielding...

"Greedy little slut," Master Apollyon said, giving him a light smack on the bottom. His voice didn't seem angry, however, and Argus caught his breath in pain but didn't complain. "And here I've been going easy on you. Did Jimmy have a go with that mouth of yours, then?"

He shook his head, praying that Mr. McKinnon hadn't told on him for offering. “No, sir.”

“Hmph. Good,” Master Apollyon said, squeezing his hip. “I don't see _him_ holding your contract.”

Argus all but lit up at that, warming in a different way. He’d never had anyone clamouring to claim him in his life, not least since he'd passed eleven without getting his letter from the school. But Master Apollyon was different.

"Go on, then,” Master Apollyon said. “Give us a suck and show us you're sorry."

Argus pushed himself to his feet. He _was_ sorry. Not at having gone to Aberdeen, because that had been brilliant, with all the people and the shops, but at having cheated Master Apollyon. He got down on his knees, yelping again when he unthinkingly sat on his haunches. He straightened up quickly, to Master Apollyon's chuckle, and then leaned in with relish.

“Good boy,” Master Apollyon murmured, grabbing him by the scruff and squeezing as Argus nuzzled at him through his trousers. “Get a good mouthful.”

His exhaustion was like a heavy blanket, making the rest of the world feel warm and muffled, and his backside was aching dully. It was a strange feeling, but a good one, and it seemed as though he was moving very slowly as he unbuttoned Master Apollyon's placket

He'd got the idea that he wasn't supposed to like this, given how often Master Apollyon doled it out as a punishment, but he did. He liked the feeling of Master Apollyon's cock getting harder with every lick and suck. He himself had two settings: soft and so hard he thought he was going to die if he didn't come. Master Apollyon wasn't as quick to rouse, however. Argus had to work for it, stroking him and sucking until his mouth was stretched wide and he was nearly choking as it hit the back of his throat. He liked that too.

"That's it," Master Apollyon said, his hand moving to Argus's hair and gripping a fistful of it. "Don't be lazy, now."

The hand in his hair urged him to speed up, and he gave himself up to it, letting Master Apollyon fuck his mouth. He soon lost all thought of anything but sucking hungrily, his sense of time slipping as he concentrated on doing a good job, being a good lad, and getting his prize. His lips were slick with spit, sliding smoothly, caught between the jut of his own teeth and the hot, loose skin of Master Apollyon's cock. A taste of salt teased his tongue, and his hum of contentment rattled as his head was guided roughly.

Master Apollyon chuckled, his breath coming heavy. "Like that, do you?"

Argus hummed earnestly, his mouth too full to speak.

"You're a nasty little cocksucker, aren't you."

He could think of no reply save another hum of agreement.

"If I hadn't took you in..." Master Apollyon mused, his hand momentarily slowing, "...oh, wicked little beast like you'd be whoring yourself in an alley, wouldn't you, sucking off any filthy beggar with a Knut to spend."

Argus hummed again, strained and heated this time, his loins throbbing fruitlessly as he mouthed at the head of Master Apollyon's cock just how he liked it, all wet lips and lapping tongue.

Master Apollyon pulled him back, his cock slipping from Argus’s mouth with a wet ‘pop,’ and looked down at him with a hot-eyed expression. "It's a good thing you're _my_ nasty little cocksucker, isn't it."

Argus nodded fervently, his gaze flickering from Master Apollyon's face to the thick red cock and pearl of clear come a scant inch from his tongue. "Yes, sir!"

He moaned in relief when he was put back to work, slammed down so far he choked, his mouth flooding with saliva. Master Apollyon's cock pressed hard at the back of his throat, and he swallowed convulsively, trying to breathe as his nose pressed to the musky thatch of hair and his mouth was stopped up fast. Then he felt it, the faint pulse against his lips and the trickle at this throat, and he gulped down the hot spurt of spunk, his tongue twisting, trying desperately to taste it.

"That's it," Master Apollyon said, his voice softer now, like fine-grained sandpaper. "That's it, take it all..."

Argus wouldn't have dreamt of disobeying, light-headed but still sucking as Master Apollyon's cock slowly softened in his mouth. When it finally slipped from between his lips, his jaw was sore and so was his throat, and he felt sleepy and good. He rested his head on Master Apollyon's thigh, and his gaze flickered from his own narrow cot in front of the fireplace to the bedroom, where Master Apollyon's big bed with its triple-stack of mattresses and mound of quilts held court.

Master Apollyon caught him looking and snorted, pulling a lock of Argus's hair just hard enough to smart.

"Fine," he said, standing up wearily with a creak of his joints and hauling Argus up with him by the back of his shirt. "But don't think you're having a lie-in."


End file.
